


Tilt

by mirh



Category: Are You Alice?
Genre: M/M, alice and marianne are twins! and children!, do i know anything about gambling?, gambling au?, gratuitous usage of "poker lingo", no, tenth grade me thought this was a good idea, their wonderland names are their aliases, whitey and mitsuki are married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 13:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15730050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirh/pseuds/mirh
Summary: The smile he gives her is even sadder than the last; it sends a chill down her spine and leaves her wanting to cry.“It’s too late for that."





	Tilt

**Author's Note:**

> me: I already posted one old fic written in my good old high-school days, why not post another?
> 
> Truth be told, this is one of the only pieces I can actually look back on somewhat fondly?? 
> 
> I swear tenth grade me did the best research she could. She even watched a movie about gambling. I vaguely remember having an in-depth discussion about gambling with my grandmother. And that my creative writing teacher did not appreciate me sharing this with the class because it wasn't "school appropriate".
> 
> Oh, and when I said gratuitous usage of "poker lingo". I meant it. Totally valid stuff though, got it off some website. Even the title is poker lingo. Help.

### Tilt

The way the man’s expression falls from smug to enraged as he is forced to fold sends a thrill of excitement through him. On the other side of the table, maroon eyes narrow in warning, yet he pays them no heed. A crack runs down the neck of the liquor bottle in the man's hand, caused by his white knuckled grip. The man glares at the royal flush he reveals, just barely managing to defeat the man’s straight flush.

“Thanks for the game, sir,” he says, grinning as the man grits his teeth around his cigar. 

“You coffee houser,” the man says back, “you were bluffing the entire time.” 

He simply grins wider and reaches across the table to pull the pot towards him, “Duchess, Hatter, drinks are on me. Care to join us, Mr. Kanbayashi?” 

Kanbayashi glares at him from across the table, but stands anyways, puffing out a cloud of smoke, “Alright, White Rabbit. I'll take you up on your offer.” 

Duchess gives him another warning look as she raises herself from her seat, and Hatter tips the brim of his hat forward.

“I'll have to decline, I have another game to play.” 

With that, Hatter exits the small room. Duchess smooths down her dress and walks to his side.

“I'll accompany you,” she says, her gaze flitting between Kanbayashi and him, and even though he hears the caution in her voice it doesn't stop him from sliding the pot into his briefcase and heading upstairs.

Duchess and Kanbayashi follow, and the three take their seats at the bar. Duchess has barely touched her Paloma by the time he’s on his second margarita. He’s still sober enough, however, to throw an insult at Kanbayashi purposefully. 

“I thought you were a shark, but it turns out you’re just a fish.” 

Kanbayashi pauses in the middle of lifting his drink to his lips and turns his gaze to him, “What was that, White Rabbit?” 

“Oh, nothing; I was only commenting on how such an esteemed player such as yourself could lose to a man with not even a third of your talent,” he says again, swirling his drink in a bored manner. 

Next to him, Duchess is silent. Kanbayashi’s cheeks are turning red, and he’s certain it’s not from the one drink he’s had.

“I mean, you had such a good hand, it’s really a shame. Oh, that’s right, I’ll be sure to give all your money a nice, new home,” he continues.

The man lowers his drink to the table and leans over towards him, his much larger frame dwarfing him. 

“I’d be careful if I were you, White Rabbit. You’ll find soon enough that your rush has come to an end,” Kanbayashi says, blowing smoke into his face before standing and making his exit. 

As he’s coughing up smoke, from the corner of his eye he sees Duchess push her drink to the edge of the bar and give him a troubled look. 

“I’ll have someone drive you home,” she says, and he can’t find it in him to refuse.

~*~*~*~*~

The sun is barely coming through the curtains when he wakes with a jolt. Wide awake, he locks eyes with a set of blue irises. It’s then that he hears a loud thump accompanied by a startled groan from the other side of the bed, and he knows that his spouse has shared the same fate. 

“Hey, hey, what’s for breakfast?” 

That snaps him out of his thoughts and he looks back into the blue eyes staring intently at him, waiting. He glances over at the nightstand and sees that the clock reads 6:33 am. 

“Alice, it’s six-thirty in the morning,” he says, tempted to roll his son off of the bed and go back to sleep.

“But we usually have breakfast around now,” another voice chirps from somewhere to his right. 

“Not on Saturdays, Marianne,” he hears his husband say, his voice muffled by the pillow he’s buried his head under. 

“But, Papa!” his daughter whines, rolling to shove at them with her feet. 

“Shiro, go make your heathens breakfast,” his husband says, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. 

Two sets of blue eyes turn to him and he sighs, resigning to his parental duties. His children cheer as he slides himself out of bed and stretches. He ruffles each of their blonde bed-heads as they clamber off the bed to join him. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” he asks as they enter the kitchen. 

Marianne rocks back and forth on her heels as she thinks, and Alice simply blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Bacon!”

At this Marianne ceases her rocking and turns on her twin. “No! We had that last time!”

Her claim sparks an argument between the two, and Shiro allows them to bicker until he can find what he’s looking for in the cabinets. 

“How about pancakes?” He asks, pulling the box out and waving it slightly in the air. 

The twins quit bickering long enough to give simultaneous cries of joy and stop completely when he asks for their assistance. By the time they’ve finished pouring the ingredients into the bowl, Alice is covered in flour up to his elbows, and Marianne’s hands are coated with egg yolk. When it’s time to pour the mix onto the skillet, he has to wrestle the bowl away from the twins, who are content with just eating all of the batter. 

Mitsuki joins them an hour later. Alice and Marianne have migrated to the living room in favour of watching their Saturday morning cartoons, their small cat having finally left Marianne’s bed to curl up with her on the couch, so it’s only the two of them in the dining room.

“There’s pancakes in the microwave for you,” Shiro says as Mitsuki stoops down to place a kiss on his forehead as he passes him on his way to the kitchen. 

“Thanks,” his husband says from the other room, returning with a plate of three pancakes on the verge of drowning in syrup. Mitsuki sits across from him at the table and mutters a quick 'thanks for the food' before cutting into the pancakes.

“That’s unhealthy,” Shiro says, smiling as Mitsuki shovels the food into his mouth.

“It’s delicious,” Mitsuki says through a mouthful. 

Shiro rolls his eyes and jumps at a sudden vibration against his thigh. Mitsuki looks up from his pancakes as Shiro takes his phone out of the pocket of his pajama pants. The message on the screen is from an unknown number, so he stares at it for a few moments before opening it. 

“We need to talk. Please come meet with me at the same Goulash Joint as last night. Just a simple cash game.” 

He sits there, mulling over the decision, because the restaurant is a good two hours away, until Mitsuki pokes his cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, putting his fork down and pushing his plate towards the centre of the table.

“It’s someone from last night,” Shiro says, reaching up to tug at the earrings in his right ear. 

“Do you have to leave?” Mitsuki asks again, sitting up straighter and looking a little disappointed. 

Shiro sighs, and tucks his phone back into his pocket, “I guess so; I know that two of the three people I was with won’t take kindly to being ignored.”

Mitsuki props an elbow up on the table and rests his cheek against his palm, “Alright, but promise me that you won’t go picking any fights.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, lifts himself from his seat, and leans across the table to press a chaste kiss to Mitsuki’s lips. 

“I won’t fight anyone unless they start it, I promise,” Shiro says, and laughs when Mitsuki sighs.

“Don’t fight anyone at all, Shiro.”

Shiro waves a hand dismissively at him and marches into the living room. Alice is sitting on the floor in front of the couch, a game controller in his hands, and Marianne is resting her feet on her brother’s shoulders from her spot on the sofa, reading. Overdramatically, Shiro flops over the arm of the couch with the intention of somewhat squishing his daughter. 

She squeals and drops her book when he lands on her and begins shoving at his back, giggling, “Daddy, get off! You’re too heavy; squish Alice!” 

Their kitten, Dinah, hops onto his stomach, adding more to his weight.

“But, Marianne, Alice is too busy with his games to pay attention to me,” Shiro says, rolling slightly from side to side to make her laugh more.

Alice pauses his game and turns around on his knees, getting a faceful of his sister’s dress. He shoves the clothing out of his way and tugs at Shiro’s shirt.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, “I can pay attention to you! Come play my game with me!” 

Shiro sighs and rises up off of Marianne, sitting next to her instead, Dinah hopping off of him and settling in Marianne’s lap. “I wish I could, but work just called and it looks like I have to get going.”

The twins’ moods instantly deflate and they frown.

“But, Daddy!” Marianne says as Alice plops back down onto the floor and says, “But, Dad!” 

Shiro ruffles their hair, “Sorry, I would much rather stay home if I could, but it might be something important.”

“I’m important,” Alice says, dramatically turning to glare at the television. 

Shiro laughs and pats his head, “Of course you are, but I still have to go. You two be good for Papa, alright?” 

“I’m always an angel,” Marianne says, stroking Dinah’s head. 

Shiro gives them both a kiss on the forehead before heading to his room to get ready. 

When he’s in his suit, he meets Mitsuki in the hallway by the front door. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Mitsuki says. 

“I’ll try,” Shiro says, and leans down to give Mitsuki another kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, you big stupid-head,” Mitsuki says, rising up on his tiptoes to return the kiss. 

A chorus of, “Ewww,” separates them and Mitsuki flits down the hall to chase the children off. 

“Be safe,” Mitsuki says over his shoulder, rounding the corner to the living room. 

“I will,” Shiro says, even though Mitsuki is no longer within earshot and walks out the door.

~*~*~*~*~

The room is the same as it was the night before, however, now only one person sits at the table. 

“Duchess,” Shiro says, not expecting the petite woman to be the one who called him out. 

Duchess looks up from shuffling cards as he walks in, “White Rabbit. I’m glad you decided to join me.” 

Shiro doesn’t let his apprehension show and takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. 

“You had something to discuss?” he asks.

Duchess simply continues to shuffle the blue cards in her hands, “Would you care to play a game of War, White Rabbit?” 

Shiro has to stop himself from reaching up to tug at his earring lest he reveal a tell, “What does War have to do with our discussion? Anyways, you specifically said a cash game. War is a children’s game that cannot be played for money.” 

Duchess begins dividing the stack of card into two piles, “I do not wish to play for money today.” 

He waits silently as she finishes her task, knowing that the woman has no intention of telling him anything until their game has begun. After a few moments of silence, Duchess pushes half a stack of cards towards him. 

“Shall we begin?” she asks, laying a card face down on the table.

Shiro does the same, and the two flip their cards to reveal two threes. The two proceed to lay three more cards on top of their first and turn the top most card over, displaying a King of spades and a King of club. 

“Even though they are of the same face, the suits determine their fate in the end. The club, which appears first in the alphabet is outranked by the spade, a suit that comes into the alphabet much later. Don’t you find that odd?” Duchess doesn’t lift her gaze from him as he draws all eight cards towards him.

“What are you getting at, Duchess?” he asks, shuffling the new cards into his deck.

Duchess lowers her deck to the table and fixes him with a cold stare, “You are treading dangerous waters without even a life jacket to your name.” 

He frowns, bending the edge of a card slightly as he roughly shuffles it into the stack, “I've been in deep waters before, ma’am.”

Duchess lowers her gaze and places a card on the table, “I don't believe that you understand the severity of your situation, White Rabbit.” 

“There is no severity of any situation, there is in fact no situation at all,” he says, once again following her lead. 

Her maroon eyes snap up to lock with his, “Kanbayashi Shigeo is a dangerous man. His threats are not something to be taken lightly.”

Shiro scoffs and flips his card but Duchess doesn’t move to overturn her own, “And why should I caution myself when dealing with this man? I've received threats before, some worse than his, and nothing came of them. Do you really think--”

“Shiro,” Duchess interrupts with his given name and not his game handle, setting him on edge. “This is not an empty threat. You have insulted his pride and you are sure to pay the consequences. He will not grant you mercy. You have become a target of his vengeance and I have an utterly sickening feeling that something will happen because of it.” 

Shiro slowly places his deck on the table, staring at the frail woman before him warily. Duchess places her hands in her lap and looks away from him for a moment and then meets his gaze. He starts at the look of fear in her eyes, and almost fails to notice the tremors running through her arms as she clasps her hands tightly.

“Go home,” she says and he's already on his feet, hurrying to the stairs.

~*~*~*~*~

He doesn't even park his car in the garage, he just leaves it in the driveway. He's too tired to bother with it and he just wants to get inside and give Mitsuki a hug and play that video game with Alice. He fumbles with his keys at the door and it takes him two tries before he realises he has the wrong key. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, blaming his state of being out of it on Duchess. He fixes his hair and straightens out his coat, taking a few deep breaths. 

The woman’s words had unsettled him, but he wasn’t going to burden Mitsuki and his children with his paranoia. He makes sure he has the right key this time, and unlocks the door. As soon as he steps through the doorway and into the hallway, a rancid smell assaults him. He remembers that they haven't taken the trash out yet and makes a mental note to do so after he gets out of his stuffy clothes. 

He kicks his shoes off and places them in the small cubby by the door, and hangs his coat on the rack opposite of the cubby. Loosening his tie, he makes his way to the living room. The closer he gets to the living room, the worse the smell gets, and by the time he's made it to the carpet he's holding his nose and his eyes are watering. 

“Mitsuki,” he starts to say when he notices something from the corner of his eye.

He turns to inspect what it is and his blood runs cold. He doesn't feel his legs shaking until he stumbles forward and has to grab the back of the couch for support. His arms can hardly hold his weight and he nearly gets a faceful of leather when they give way. He can hear his breath coming out in short, shaky puffs and he can barely keep himself upright as he walks to the front of the sofa, stopping in front of the coffee table. 

His legs give out and he painfully collides with the floor, though the pain doesn't register. All he can see is red and blond and he feels like he can’t breathe, and he can’t move, he can’t do anything. He reaches out and grasps the pale arm of his son and tugs at it. 

“Alice, get up,” he says, but the boy doesn't move. 

He tugs the boy’s arm harder, drawing him into a halfway kneeling position. He can taste metal from where he’s biting the inside of his cheek, and his hands begin to tremble so violently when he looks into the child’s dull eyes that Alice almost slips out of his grasp. His grip tightens on Alice’s arms and he begins to shake the boy.

“Alice, Alice it's not funny. Wake up,” he can barely speak, and he feels like vomiting when Alice’s head lolls to the side with each shake. 

He lifts his child into his arms, trying his hardest not to look at the dark hole on the side of his head, and stands. He almost trips on Alice’s bloodied T-ball bat lying beside the coffee table, but steadies himself on the arm of the couch, leaving a murky print on the leather. 

“Mitsuki? Marianne?” he calls out, clutching Alice tightly to his chest, uncaring of the blood seeping through his white dress shirt. 

He closes Alice’s eyes so that he doesn't have to see the lifelessness in them. With small, wobbly steps he ventures further into the house. A smell more putrid than that in the livingroom hits him when he comes to the kitchen door. He bites his lip and slides the door open and instantly begins to retch. He can barely keep his balance and staggers to the far side of the kitchen.

He keeps Alice in one arm when he kneels, and lifts his other hand to cradle Mitsuki’s cheek. Mitsuki is slumped against the counter, the smell of the open fridge and broken pitcher of green tea at his side mix with the scent of all the blood, and Shiro nearly retches again. 

He pulls Mitsuki to him, pushing his unruly bangs away from his dull jade eyes, and just holds him there; he presses his forehead against Mitsuki’s, and he can feel blood staining his pale hair, but he doesn't move. After a few moments, or minutes, maybe more, he pulls away from Mitsuki and gently lays Alice next to him, placing the boy's head in his other father's lap. 

He stands and clutches his arm to keep himself from panicking without the weight of his son there. He exits the kitchen and faces the hallway. A small spark of hope lights within in him. Mitsuki and Alice were within a very close vicinity of each other, yet Marianne is nowhere to be seen. He forces his legs to move.

“Marianne? Marianne, please answer me! Marianne, if you're hiding, it's okay; Daddy’s here now. Mary?” 

His voice is quivering, and he's in such a panic that he trips over something in the hallway. Looking down, he has to clamp a hand over his mouth. At his feet lies Dinah’s bloody body. He had always pretended that the kitten had gotten on his nerves, but he really did love him. And if Dinah was here, that meant that Marianne was not far away. 

Carefully, he bends down and picks Dinah up and lays him against the wall, so he won’t be trampled on again. He looks in every room along the hallway: the closets, the bathroom, the twins’ room; Marianne is in none of them. The last door in the hallway leads to his and Mitsuki's room. He almost doesn't look in the bedroom, but finds himself reaching out and twisting the doorknob. 

The room looks the same as it did when he left. The bed is made, Mitsuki's slippers are by the nightstand, Alice’s DS that had been taken from him when they caught him up past his bedtime playing it is still on their dresser, Marianne’s stuffed rabbit is still on the bed from that morning.

“Marianne?” his voice is soft, and he feels his grip on his arm tighten. 

He looks under the bed, behind the curtains, and as he’s reaching for the closet door he feels his heart plummet into his stomach. With great difficulty he gains enough control of his hand to open the door. His vision blurs and he can feel his legs go numb again. 

Marianne is curled on her side at the far end of the closet, face pressed against the wall. Her eyes are already closed, and that fact makes his heart lurch. He manages to walk to her side, and lifts her limp body into his arms. He doesn't look at her face as he carries her to where Mitsuki and Alice are. 

He lays her at Mitsuki’s other side, her head lolling to the left to rest against Mitsuki’s chest. He can feel the tears threatening to fall as he takes his phone from his pocket and dials the number for the police. He can barely speak when the operator asks him for his emergency and his address. The operator asks him to stay on the phone with her, but he hits the end call button and falls to his knees. He buries his face in his hands and cries. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

When he opens his eyes again, someone is shaking his shoulder. A woman in uniform stands over him and offers him her hand when he looks up at her. Her name tag reads Ashikawa Mari and he has to look away because it’s too similar. 

He stands without her help, because his hands are covered in blood, and he doesn’t want anyone to touch him. As his eyes become adjusted to the lights once again, he notices something off about the room. He feels his heart begin to pound against his chest and hears his breathing become shallow when he realises that Mitsuki and his children are no longer in the room. 

“Captain,” on of the officers examining the kitchen says, immediately wary of Shiro’s behavior, however the woman silences the officer with a stern look. 

The policewoman steps in front of Shiro and holds her hands up placatingly, “Please calm down, sir. They’ve been taken to the ambulances. Can you tell me your name?” 

Shiro stares at the woman, and his voice comes out almost a whisper, “...Usagi Shiro.” 

The woman lowers her hands and takes a step closer to him, “Can you tell me the names of the deceased?”

Deceased. The word hits him hard and he wants to curl in on himself. Deceased. He finally finds his voice though, “Usagi Mitsuki, my husband. The children are Usagi Alice, my son, and Usagi Marianne, my daughter.” 

The woman reaches out as if to take him by the shoulder, but Shiro flinches away from her so she brings her hand back to her side, “Were you here when the incident occurred?” 

Shiro shakes his head, clenching his fists.

“Is there anyone we can ask who can solidify your alibi?” 

He hesitates, and then lies, shaking his head no once again. 

“Were the bodies in the same positions when we arrived here as they were when you came home?” she sounds as if she already knows the answer, but wants him to say it for himself.

“No,” he replies, looking away.

Her eyes flicker with pity, but she makes no movement towards him, “Can you show me where the bodies were when you found them.” 

Numbly, he nods and turns to the fridge, puts a hand over his eyes and points, “Mitsuki was there, on the floor. He was leaning against the cabinet.”

His sentence breaks off as his breath hitches, and the woman says, “Alright; and the children?” 

Shiro doesn’t remove his hand from his eyes until he’s facing the door leading to the hallway between the kitchen and the living room. He leads the woman into the living room and stops by the coffee table and Alice’s small bat. 

“Alice was lying there, face down,” he says, reaching up to grip his arm tightly. 

The woman nods, and writes something on her notepad, “And your daughter?”

He leads her down the hall to his bedroom and shows her to the closet. He doesn’t follow her when she steps into the closet. 

“Against the far wall,” he says, “she was curled up on her right side with her face pressed against it.”

The woman seems satisfied with his explanations and rejoins him in the bedroom. She tucks the small notebook back into her breast pocket and gestures for him to follow her. He lets her take him to the backyard and when she sits down on the porch and motions for him to do the same he obeys. 

“Do you know of anyone who would want to target your family like this? This was a very clean operation, nothing broken, no forced entry; is there anyone you know who would murder your family in cold blood?”

His hands begin to tremble where they lay in his lap, though not for the reasons the woman believes. 

“No,” he lies again. 

The woman is about to say something when he speaks again, “Fujin Koushaku.” 

“Excuse me?” the woman asks. 

“Fujin Koushaku. I was with her at the time the… murders took place.” 

The woman gazes warily at him, “Miss Fujin… is she part of an affair?” 

Shiro shakes his head, gaze glued to the grass, “No. I… gamble. Illegally. We were playing a game. Duchess. That’s her game title.”

The woman’s look becomes serious and her lips press into a thin line, “Is there anyone else you gamble with?” 

He lies again, shaking his head, “No. Only her.” 

The woman stands and dusts the dirt from her uniform, “Thank you very much for your cooperation, but I’m afraid that I’ll have to ask you to put your hands behind your back.” 

He stands from the porch and turns his back to the woman.

As she leads him to a police car parked halfway in the driveway, he sees a paramedic wheel a stretcher with a long black cloth draped across it into an ambulance. He cranes his neck to look over his shoulder, but the doors have already shut. He bites his lip and feels his fingernails dig into his palms. He’s made up his mind. 

~*~*~*~*~

For two days Shiro sits in a cell. He watches the guards, and singles out one. A young man whose name tag reads Hanamura Tatsuya. Hanamura appears to be new; he always exhibits too much confidence, as if a prisoner could never touch him. Shiro never imagined himself giving into ideas like this, and even though a part of him loathes what he has planned, the other part is willing to do this and more to be able to do what he needs. 

On the third day, Hanamura comes in a few minutes after eight, like always; the ring of keys on his belt jingle obnoxiously as he walks. He raps his knuckles against the iron bars. Shiro doesn’t move from his spot on the small cot and ignores him. 

Hanamura doesn’t take well to the silent treatment and begins jeering at him, moving closer to the bars. Shiro is on him in an instant. He reaches through the bars to grab Hanamura by the neck of his uniform and with one quick movement jerks him forwards. Hanamura’s head collides with the iron bars and the man sinks to the floor. Shiro squats down and takes the keys from the man’s belt and uses them to unlock his cell door. 

He roughly kicks Hanamura aside and pushes the door open. When he’s standing outside of his cell he glances down at the man’s unconscious body. Quickly, he swaps their clothes and drags Hanamura into the cell, thanking whoever was up there watching him that the county's makeshift jail was too shabby for surveillance cameras. He removes the man’s gun from it’s holster and raises it. It’s heavy in his hand as he hesitates for a moment when the light catches on the gold band on the man’s ring finger, and he pushes down equally as heavy thoughts. He notes that the gun is equipped with a silencer and almost sighs in relief. 

He aims the gun at the side of Hanamura’s skull and pulls the trigger. Shiro tucks the gun back into its holster and walks out. 

~*~*~*~*~

He walks to his home, devoid of police now, and takes the spare keys from between two loose bricks on the outside wall. He changes into a white dress shirt and slacks and throws the police uniform into the trash, yet he keeps the gun and its holster, tucking them under his shirt. He reclaims his car keys, tucks the small knife kept in his bedside drawer in his pocket, and uses the home phone to dial a number. When he’s done giving instructions to the person on the other line, he grabs his briefcase and heads to his car. 

The two hours that pass as he drives seem like mere minutes, and when he stalks inside the restaurant and down the familiar stairs he is surprised to see his guest there already, seated and waiting for him. 

“Fujin,” he says and the woman looks up.

“Usagi,” she replies. 

He feels his stomach twist and knot in anger as he walks up to the table. 

“Were you in on it?” he asks, coming to a halt next to her chair.

The petite woman doesn’t look up at him, and he can feel his body begin to tremble. He slams a fist against the table, but she doesn’t flinch. 

“Were you in on it?” he asks again, voice rising. “If you were, Fujin, I swear I will kill you right now. Answer me!” 

“I was not.” she says, and he hadn’t even realised that her small shoulders were shaking. “I was not,” she repeats; he sees her lift a hand to her chest and grip the bow there so tightly that the colour in her knuckles begins to fade.

Fujin brings a hand to her face and pushes aside her rosy bangs. She looks tired, and a small amount of his anger dissipates at the sight. 

She looks up and meets his russet gaze, “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t called you out… If you had only stayed there… I knew he would do something but I never once thought it would be so soon.”

Shiro feels hot embers settle in his stomach at the mere mention of that man. He bites down on his lower lip and clenches his fists. 

“I’ll find him,” he swears, “I’ll make him pay.” 

“Retribution is what caused this mess!” she says, rising from her seat. 

Two thick wads of cash land on the table next to them, and she looks towards them in surprise. Shiro’s briefcase is open, and there are tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Koushaku,” he says, and she feels a pang in her chest at just how broken the confident man she knows sounds, how sad the smile he wears is, “I just wish I could see them smile again.” 

She takes the cash in her hands and dumps it back into the briefcase, instead taking Shiro’s hands in her own. 

“Please, don’t do anything you’ll regret later,” she says, squeezing his hands tightly. 

The smile he gives her is even sadder than the last; it sends a chill down her spine and leaves her wanting to cry. 

“It’s too late for that.” 

~*~*~*~*~

At Koushaku’s insistence, he finds himself hunting down 88th, a member of their gambling ring and a woman with a lengthy criminal record. 

He finds her in a bar an hour and a half away from the restaurant, and the woman is none too pleased to see him.

“What do you want, White Rabbit?” she asks, words slurred from what appears to be her fourth drink if the empty glasses on the counter are any indication towards her current state.

“I need information,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the bustle of people.

The Russian woman places her drink on the table and swivels around on her stool to face him, “Why?”

He calms himself before saying the name, so as to not work himself up, “A man by the name of Kanbayashi Shigeo did something that he’s going to pay dearly for.” 

The woman’s azure eyes narrow and she pushes herself up from the bar and beckons for him to follow as she disappears behind a corner. He follows her to a secluded room in the back of the bar, where the noise is muffled significantly.

“Kanbayashi Shigeo is a dangerous man. Why do you want information on him?” she asks, sitting on one of the couches lining the walls and pulls a bottle of sake from a compartment between the cushions. 

Shiro remains standing in front of her, and looks her straight in the eyes, “I have reason to believe that he either murdered my family himself or hired a third party to do the job.”

88th tips the bottle back and takes a long drink before answering, “Kanbayashi would never dirty his hands personally.”

“So I’m looking for a hitman,” he surmises. 

“That’s your best bet right now,” she says, downing the rest of the bottle.

Shiro clenches his fists, a giddy feeling swelling within his chest, “How would I find this hitman?” 

“Talk with Caterpillar. She knows a man who can help you better than I can.” 

He nods and turns to leave but stops in the doorway. “88th?”

The woman grunts in acknowledgment and he looks back over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

~*~*~*~*~

His confrontation with Caterpillar sends him to a man who calls himself the Dormouse. 

Caterpillar assures him that Dormouse is the best informant in the country, and that if anyone can find this hitman it’s him, but that doesn’t stop him from having doubts. Shiro is determined to find this man, or woman, whoever it may be, though, so he shoves the doubts aside and travels to the address Caterpillar had written down for him.

The address leaves him at a small café on the outskirts of town. He orders the drink written in Caterpillar’s barely legible swirls on the note and is escorted to a back room by young woman dressed in all black. The room is dark and the only light comes from a small monitor in the far corner of the room. 

The woman flips a light switch and he’s momentarily dazed by the sudden change in light, however the man sleeping with his feet propped on a desk does not even stir. The woman calmly walks over to the man and pinches his ear. The man groans and swats at her hand, but the woman simply reaches past his hand to pinch his ear again.

“What?” he says, cracking open one eye to glare at the woman.

“Someone wishes to speak with you,” she says and takes her leave.

The man turns his glare to Shiro and Shiro has to resist the urge to glare back. 

“I need information,” Shiro says. 

The man scoffs and crosses his arms.“Don’t we all?” 

Shiro keeps his hands fisted by his sides and takes a deep breath to quell his simmering irritation. “I need to know who Kanbayashi Shigeo has hired to do anything within the last week.” 

“What for?” the man asks, lighting a cigarette between his teeth. 

Shiro unlatches the briefcase’s locks and and drops it on the desk in front of the man, narrowly missing his feet. He’s down forty grand at Caterpillar’s insistence, but the eight-hundred still in there is enough he figures. The man sits up straighter at the sight of the money and smirks. 

“You sure are willing to throw away quite a bit of cash for this, aren’t you?” 

Shiro keeps his gaze locked with the man’s. “I won’t need it soon, anyways.” 

The man makes a noncommittal hum and slides the briefcase closer to himself. “I won’t ask what you plan to do, but I’ll see what I can do about Kanbayashi.” 

Shiro almost sighs in relief, but catches himself before his shoulders slump, “Thank you.” 

The man shrugs and takes his cigarette from his mouth to blow out a puff of smoke, and gestures to one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Sit down, this shouldn’t take long.” 

Shiro sits in one of the wooden chairs as the man swivels his around to face the computer on his left. Shiro sits with his back straight and his hands clenching the fabric of his pants over his knees, fingers trembling with excitement and anger at the prospect of finding the man who took his family’s lives. He stares at the wooden desk, turning over plans and ideas in his mind, and his grip tightens ever so slightly on his pants when he comes to one. 

“Ah,” the man says, startling Shiro out of his thoughts, “here we go. Kanbayashi Shigeo’s dirty-workers.” 

Shiro leans forward, eyes narrowing, “Was anyone hired about four to five days ago?” 

The man turns the monitor to face Shiro, and Shiro feels his heart begin to beat angrily against his chest at the sight of a man in his early to late thirties.

“Misaki Tooru,” the man says, “that’s the man you're looking for. A professional hitman by the looks of it; Kanbayashi hired him five days ago to take out the Usagi household, save for one man. And I’m guessing that one man was you, correct?” 

Shiro nods, though he doesn’t really register the action, too focused on the rage swelling up in his mind. 

“Where can I find this man?” he doesn’t recognise his own voice; it’s too calm, too deep. 

The man turns the monitor back around to face himself, and the sound of typing is lost to Shiro’s ears. His hands are itching to reach for the gun near his back pocket, but he knows there’s no need to use it at the moment. He wants to feel its weight in his hands, wants to see the look on this Misaki Tooru’s face as he stands over him, gun locked and loaded; he wants--

“I found a phone number, but with such a limited amount of time, that’s about all I can do. You think you can take it from there?” the man asks, side-eying Shiro knowingly. 

Shiro nods again, and the man pulls open a drawer to retrieve a stack of sticky notes and a pen. He scrawls down the number onto the sticky note and slides it over to Shiro. 

“I said it before and I’ll say it again, I won’t ask what you’re planning, but I will tell you this: these men are no joke. They’re not amateurs, and they won’t go down without a fight. You do what you have do, but if you die before then, pretty much everything up to that point will have been in vain. Don’t underestimate these men, Usagi.” 

Shiro gives them man a small grin, “I have no intention of dying before then.” 

The man leans back in his chair and puffs out another cloud of smoke and smirks, “You got guts, kid, I’ll give you that. Now get out of here.” 

Shiro doesn’t have to be told twice.

~*~*~*~*~

 

_“Meet with me in the old library in Caucus. I have something I want to discuss with you, Misaki Tooru.” ___

____

He hits send and waits for the little message at the bottom of the text to tell him that it’s been sent. The small black words pop up on the screen and he tucks his phone back into his pocket as he waits within the doors of the library. The library has long since been cleared out, and only empty space remains on the two floors that were once filled to the brim with books of all different kinds. 

____

The library doors were never locked since the townspeople had deemed the library too dangerous to venture near anyways, so he was able to get in with relative ease. He sits by the large glass doors that are covered with black cloth that remind him too much of ambulances and stretchers, Hanamura’s gun nestled in his hands. He checks the cartridge again and counts eight bullets. Three. He only gets to use three here. 

____

He tries to calm himself by taking in deep, slow breaths, but the effect is shattered when he hears the handle on one of the doors being pushed. Anger pools into his stomach, his chest, all of his crevices, filling every part of his body. He rises quietly from his sitting position and waits. 

____

The door creaks open, and Shiro remains in the shadows with baited breath as a man’s figure steps into the room. The door closes behind the man as Shiro pulls the trigger; the thud of the door and the sound of the man falling to his knees echo together. A bullet whizzes past Shiro’s face, grazing his cheek, though the pain is barely a numb feeling. He fires another bullet and the sound of a gun hitting the tile assures him that he’s hit where he intended to. 

____

The man is on his knees, gripping his right shoulder as his arm hangs limp. He looks in Shiro’s direction and Shiro steps out of the shadows. He feels too calm now, as he walks to the man’s side. The man gazes up at him, gritting his teeth as Shiro stoops over to pick his gun up from the floor. 

____

“Who are you?” the man asks. 

____

Shiro glares down at him, “Where can I find Kanbayashi Shigeo?” 

____

The man snorts and looks him dead in the eye, “Sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name.” 

____

In that instant, Shiro sees red, and before he even realises what he’s doing his shin collides with the man’s temple. The man’s head whips to the right and he loses his balance, falling sideways. He lets out a groan of pain when his injured shoulder connects with the hard ground, and Shiro can’t even find it in him to smirk. 

____

He stomps down on the man’s limp elbow and slowly presses more of his weight against it, “Where can I find Kanbayashi Shigeo, Misaki Tooru?” 

____

Misaki spits at his shoe and Shiro uses Misaki’s gun to send a bullet through the man’s other elbow. Shiro lets his full weight sink down on Misaki’s right elbow and even the sound of cracking bone doesn’t excite him. The man bites down on his lip to stop himself from crying out, but Shiro can see the way he writhes in pain. Shiro presses further until a gut-wrenching snap echoes throughout the room, and then he moves his foot to the man’s wrist. It doesn’t take as much pressure for the first sounds of fracturing to begin, and Misaki’s lip begins to bleed from the force of his teeth.

____

“I’ll take mercy on you if you can provide me with the information I want,” Shiro says, not even flinching when another crack reverberates through the empty room. 

____

Misaki weakly manages to lift his left hand in semblance of surrender, “Alright, alright, just stop!” 

____

Shiro lifts his foot from Misaki’s rapidly swelling wrist, but keeps it pressed against the man’s bloody knee in case he tries something.

____

“Kanbayashi Shigeo, right? You want information on the boss, I’ll give it to you.”

____

Shiro puts more weight on his foot and Miskai hisses in pain, “If you lie to me, you’ll regret it.”

____

Misaki shakes his head, he’s breathing heavy from blood loss and pain and pauses many times to catch his breath when he speaks, “Kanbayashi does all his dealings from a place up in Izuchi; he’s got his own casino there, and it’s open every night. Roulette, Pachinko, poker, you name it, he’s got it there. If you go there you can’t miss it. The police haven’t shut it down because they don’t want a run in with the man.” 

____

Shiro watches the way he grimaces and squirms as he applies more pressure to the man’s knee, and decides that he’s telling the truth, “Why did Kanbayashi hire you?”

____

Misaki leans his head back against the cold tile, fighting to stay conscious, “He said some kid conned him into forfeiting all his money, and then humiliated him afterwards. Said he wanted the kid to know he could have his money, but that’d he’d be taking something of equal value.” 

____

For a moment, the pressure from Shiro’s foot weakens. He feels his throat constrict and he looks down at his hands to see the guns in his grasp trembling. His cheek begins to throb. He had insulted Kanbayashi and made a fool of him for the whole bar to see; it was his fault that his family became the victims. It was his fault that Marianne would never get to finish her book. His fault that Alice’s month long saving for a new video game would be for nought. His own fault that he would never again get to see Mitsuki’s sleepy smiles in the mornings. 

____

Misaki is still talking, but Shiro can’t hear him; all he can hear is his heart pounding wildly in his chest. His lungs ache, like he can’t supply them with enough oxygen, and the guns feel like cinder blocks weighing down his hands. And then, the last words of Misaki’s statement finally register. Something of equal value. 

____

Once again, he finds it hard to breathe, hard to stop his body from trembling, but now for all new reasons. 

____

“How far away is Izuchi?” he asks, voice quiet and quivering. 

____

Misaki shifts his leg and winces in pain, “Forty minutes north of here… give or take.” 

____

Shiro removes his foot from Misaki’s knee and steps away from him. Misaki lets out a sigh of relief but his expression quickly morphs into something just as easily distinguishable. 

____

“Hey, what are you doing? You said--” his voice goes high with panic, but Shiro has long ago decided that this is how it must be. 

____

The look of terror in the man’s eyes as Shiro points his own gun at his forehead, as though he is experiencing the horror inflicted on his victims, feeling what it’s like to be on the opposite end of the barrel for the first time, gives Shiro a sickening sense of pleasure. He draws the trigger back and watches in satisfaction as blood sprays on his white shirt and Misaki Tooru ceases breathing. 

____

~*~*~*~*~

____

They send four men when they receive the call a little past nine p.m.. Ashikawa Mari has seen many things in her line of work, but when they open the door to the old building, she has to look away.

____

Carved for them in red ink, 

____

_Do you like my gift? I’ll be leaving you another soon. If you don’t want that, be at the casino in Izuchi at eleven forty tonight._

______ _ _

~*~*~*~*~

______ _ _

The casino is bustling with people; there’s so much noise that even if a hammer was dropped, no one would hear it. 

______ _ _

The women at the front door cower away from him as he walks inside, fury seeming to radiate from him as much as the stench of blood. The other Bunnies in the room keep near the walls, only one or two remaining at their posts. The men and women betting away their fortunes barely pay him heed as he saunters by. 

______ _ _

He stops in front of a Bunny, who scrunches up her nose in order to hide her unease as she points him in the direction he seeks. The hallway is much darker than the main room, though dimly lit by small globe chandeliers. There are no doors along either side of the hall; a large door stands alone at the end. He rests a hand over the hilt of the gun in his back pocket and draws the small, bloodied knife from his front one. 

______ _ _

The door, to his surprise, is unlocked. Cautiously, he slowly opens the door, and his grip tightens on both weapons when he sees that man at a large mahogany desk, puffing out a cloud of smoke from his cigar. Before the door is even open all the way, he’s staggering backwards from the sudden, blinding pain in his left shoulder. 

______ _ _

“Usagi,” he hears the man chide from inside the room, “did you not think that I knew you would come for me eventually?” 

______ _ _

Shiro grits his teeth, heat boiling in the pit of his stomach. He brings his hand up to clutch his shoulder, and isn’t surprised to see sanguine trickle down his wrist. He turns his gaze back to the room to see that Kanbayashi has risen from his seat. The man walks to the door and opens it further, mockingly gesturing for Shiro to waltz right in. 

______ _ _

Shiro draws his fist back and punches the man square in the jaw. 

______ _ _

It doesn’t do much besides momentarily stun Kanbayashi, twisting his head to the side. The man snarls, and one of his hands shoot out to yank Shiro from the ground by his hair. 

______ _ _

“You little--” he cuts himself off with a growl of pain as Shiro takes the opportunity to jab the knife into the underside of his forearm. 

______ _ _

The man tosses Shiro against the floor inside the room, knocking the wind out of him, and slams the door shut behind him. Pale strands of Shiro’s hair flutter to the ground between them as Shiro gasps to regain his breath. Kanbayashi levels his gun with Shiro’s head and Shiro scrambles for Hanamura’s gun.

______ _ _

One gunshot rings out and a gun clatters to the floor. Shiro can feel the blood trickle down his neck, and he can feel it on his scalp and jaw from where the bullet pierced his ear. Kanbayashi teeters to the side, face a deep scarlet hue with rage, clutching his left arm. Shiro’s body sways heavily with exhaustion as he raises himself to his feet. The pain in his shoulder continues to throb, and he stumbles, his equilibrium severely unsettled. 

______ _ _

Kanbayashi fires once again at him, and the bullet rips through the outer part of his thigh, sending him tumbling to the ground. The man stomps towards him, the barrel of his gun aimed for Shiro’s head. 

______ _ _

“Such a pity you haven’t cried out yet. Unlike your family, I’ve given you plenty of time to scream.” 

______ _ _

Shiro feels his hands begins to tremble, and in a surge of rage he lunges at the man, knocking him to the ground. He stands above him, eyes dark and breathing shallow. Hanamura’s gun has four bullets left. He pulls the trigger, sending a spray of blood to drench him. He fires again, taking out Kanbayashi’s other kneecap. 

______ _ _

“Aren’t you going to scream?” he asks, firing the gun point-blank at the man’s right shoulder. 

______ _ _

Kanbayashi bites his lip, unable to move anything below his shoulders or knees.

______ _ _

“If you aren’t going to scream, at least tell me the names of the people you had killed.”

______ _ _

Beneath him, Kanbayashi is silent, and a bubble of anger swells in Shiro’s chest and he kneels over the man, “You don’t know? Well, allow me to inform you then.”

______ _ _

He draws the knife from his pockets once again and cuts through the man’s shirt, into his chest. He brings the blade up, then down, and repeats once more until an ‘M’ is carved in the man’s skin. 

______ _ _

“‘M’”, Shiro says, his voice low and calm, “there are two people whose names start with an ‘m’. Who could it be?” 

______ _ _

He removes the knife from Kanbayashi’s skin, a splash of blood peppering his pale jaw. He plunges the knife back in and carves out an ‘I’ followed by ‘T’, ‘S’, ‘U’, ‘K’, ‘I’. Kanbayashi writhes beneath him, his eyes clamped shut, and mouth bleeding from the force of his bite on the inside of his cheek. 

______ _ _

“M-I-T-S-U-K-I,” Shiro reads aloud, “I’ve known Mitsuki since we were both high schoolers. He was always sickly back then, you know, but he started getting better after we got married and adopted the twins, since he was able to stay home with them all day. He loved them so much.” 

______ _ _

He brings the knife back down to slice into the man’s tan skin and carves out another ‘M’; ‘A’, ‘R’, ‘I’, ‘A’, ‘N’, ‘N’, and ‘E’ follow shortly after. 

______ _ _

Shiro reads the name out loud once again, “Marianne was always happy. She was such a good baby, too, she hardly ever cried, and her terrible twos weren’t really all that terrible. She was always reading, but she never did want to become an author herself.” 

______ _ _

Kanbayashi’s body jerks each time the cold metal pierces his skin, and there are tears streaming down his cheeks, yet his eyes are still closed tightly. Shiro traces out ‘A’, ‘L’, ‘I’, ‘C’, ‘E’ with the tip of the blade before sinking the blade into the man again. 

______ _ _

“Alice was such a trouble maker, always getting into things and making messes. He used to get so mad about the fact that he was younger than Marianne by three minutes. They just turned nine this year, did you know that? Alice was going to start playing baseball in the spring.” 

______ _ _

Shiro cuts a jagged line in the man’s torso when his vision clouds over, “And for what was it all taken away from them? Money. Your greed took my children’s lives from them; all the opportunities and experiences they could have had. I’ll never be able to hold their hands, or give them hugs, or see them smile again.” 

______ _ _

His hands are trembling, and his heart is hammering in his chest, “I’ll never be able to sit down with them for dinner ever again. I’ll never have to tell them again to brush their teeth before bed… They’ll never have to worry about a bad grade on a report card, or who gets the TV remote, or whose turn it is to get in the bath first…” 

______ _ _

The tears falling onto Kanbayashi’s neck mix with his blood, staining the collar of his pinstripe suit even more. Shiro tears the knife from his torso and jabs it into the underside of his arm, causing the man’s body to jerk violently, and his eyes snap open. 

______ _ _

“I was told that you thought your money was of equal value as their lives,” Shiro continues, slowly slicing along the man’s arm. “Can your money replace their lives? Can your money fill the empty side of my bed at night? Can it fill the back seat of my car and replace them when I look in the mirror?” 

______ _ _

Shiro slides the knife up Kanbayashi’s arm and over his shoulder, across his collarbones and down the other arm until it comes to a rest by the man’s pinkie.

______ _ _

“Can it replace bedtime stories and grocery store trips?” he brings the blade down, severing the man’s pinkie. 

______ _ _

He moves to the next finger, “It can’t replace anything! You cannot buy a life!” 

______ _ _

With the last four words, he shoves the blade down on Kanbayashi’s remaining fingers in rapid succession. The man finally lets out a garbled cry of agony, his eyes wide and blood seeping into his mouth. Shiro stands and levels Hanamura’s gun with Kanbayashi’s forehead. 

______ _ _

“They didn’t even have a chance to scream.” 

______ _ _

And he pulls the trigger.

______ _ _

~*~*~*~*~ 

______ _ _

At eleven thirty-five, six people in uniform burst into the room. Shiro is still standing, gazing down at the dead body before him. He recognises the woman amongst the officers. 

______ _ _

“Sir, please put the gun down,” she says.

______ _ _

Was he still even holding it? He looks down to see the gun still gripped tightly in his palm. He hadn’t even realised. He turns to look at her; her gun is pointed at him. 

______ _ _

“Shiro,” she says, and his gaze lifts to her eyes, “put the gun down, and come walk this way.”

______ _ _

“I’ve killed three people,” he says numbly, staring into her brown eyes. 

______ _ _

“Yes, I know,” she replies, “but if you come with us now, willingly, maybe we can work something out.”

______ _ _

He looks between her and the five other men, all aiming their handguns at him. He looks down at Hanamura’s gun in his grasp, and the woman tenses. 

______ _ _

“Shiro, please, put the gun down. Come with me, and we can help you--”

______ _ _

“For what reason?” he asks. He clenches the gun in his fist, “I have no reason to continue on here.”

______ _ _

The woman takes a wary step towards him, “We’ll find you a reason, Shiro. But first you have to put the gun down.” 

______ _ _

Shiro looks between Kanbayashi’s body and the gun in his grasp. Hanamura’s gun is out of bullets. 

______ _ _

“I’ve killed three people,” he repeats, and he sees the woman’s grip on her gun tighten, “what’s one more?”

______ _ _

He lifts Hanamura’s gun, and points it directly at the woman. 

______ _ _

“Shiro,” she says loudly in a warning tone, but he’s already pulling the trigger back.

______ _ _

An earsplitting crack rings out, and he hears the dull thud of his gun hitting the floor before the world darkens, and he closes his eyes.

______ _ _

~*~*~*~*~

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

When he opens his eyes again, he's staring at a familiar wooden door. There's a sweet smell wafting through the air as he reaches for the round, bronze handle. Light blinds him for a second when the door pushes inwards effortlessly, and before his eyes can refocus there are voices in his ears.

______ _ _

"Daddy!"

______ _ _

"Dad!"

______ _ _

There's weight on his chest and he looks down to see two blonde heads and four azure eyes staring up at him. He stoops down and wraps his arms around two pairs of small shoulders, tightly holding them until they leave his embrace and wander back into the living room.

______ _ _

And then, there are a pair of jade eyes gazing up at him, a warm smile directed at him, and soft hands cupping his cheeks.

______ _ _

"Welcome home."

______ _ _

He smiles, and he can feel the tears falling. "I'm home."

______ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> was there no flower symbolisim in this at all. i'm shocked. I was a major slut for flower symbolisim back then


End file.
